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“Princess, trust me, I don’t like it either, but there is a snowstorm rolling in as we speak, and if you don’t come with me, you will be stuck in it.” The entire town is baring down in anticipation of it. It is likely the last snow of the season. It will thaw soon, making way for spring, flowers, and new beginnings, but right now, it will be hell.” As I say it, she looks up, and her eyes get big. Yeah, honey, the weather looks different below than it does from high.
“Oh no. I didn’t know.”
“Yep. So what is it going to be?” I feel Like I am going to give her a choice. It seems something is not giving me one either.
CHAPTER FIVE
ANYA
It’s starting to snow, and I must be taking too long to decide because before I know it, I’m being dragged. Me… being dragged… The audacity… the way my pussy is getting wet is audacious as well… wait… what? I shouldn’t be getting turned on by him. I just shouldn’t be, but I definitely am. I squeeze my thighs together.
“Wait!” I shout. There’s no one else out on the street, so I resist a bit, digging my feet into the ground. I wish I were wearing more substantial shoes. These stupid ballet flats are fine inside the palace, but outside in the snow, my freaking toes are frozen. All thoughts stop when I realize that he’s dragging me. I don’t know this man from Adam. Sure, he’s hot, but it’s my understanding that most serial killers are hot and easily able to lure their prey.
“What? I’m cold. Aren’t you cold? You don’t even have a coat on, Princess,” he says, shrugging his off and putting it on me. I’m immediately hit with the scent of his cologne and fish. How chivalrous.
“I don’t even know who you are. Where are we going?” I’m only acting this way because I feel like I should, outwardly. Inwardly, I think I’d follow this man anywhere. Why? I don’t know. I look down at the ground. He suddenly stops and lets go of me. The snow is coming down a bit harder now. I usually stand on the balcony outside my bedroom and watch it come down, but that's covered. It feels good touching my skin.
“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness, I am no one but your loyalist, most humble subject, Christopher Svensson, at your service,” he says, giving me the most horrendous bow I’ve ever seen. It takes everything in me not to laugh or correct him. Mama said men hate to be corrected. I know that is what he wants. He’s doing this to goad me; I won’t let him. I hold my hand out to him which he shakes instead of kisses. At this point, we can barely see two inches in front of our faces. The snow here doesn’t play. “I’m taking you to my humble abode until I safely deliver you to where you belong.
“Thank you, Christopher. You may call me Anya.” He just shakes his head, sending snow flying everywhere, adorably.
“Right, Princess. Let’s go.” Then he lifts me up and carries me over his shoulder, his hands very near my butt. I forget how to breathe. No one, and I do mean no one, has ever touched me like this before. I can’t help but notice how fucking strong he is. We stop in front of a charming two-story cottage just a little ways from town on a side street.
He sets me down outside a door before he unlocks the door.“ He walks inside, and I hesitate. Do you know how long the storm is supposed to last?” I ask. I’ve never wondered such a thing before. It’s never mattered.
“Two days, at least. Maybe more.” I take his coat off and hand it to him. He hangs it on a peg by the door.
“Two days!” I question. How am I supposed to survive two whole days with this man?
“What am I? A meteorologist? How the hell am I supposed to know?” he says angrily.
I am about to walk into his house, but I can’t. No one has ever talked to me like this. I’m on the verge of tears, and I hate that I get that way when I’m mad. It makes me look weak, but I can’t help it. You know what? Fuck that… I didn’t do anything to this man, and I’m about to let him know that.
CHAPTER SIX
CHRISTOPHER
“What did I do to you?” She sort of screams it at me, and I don’t flinch. I had it coming. I am being an ultra-asshole, and I need to stop. Hell, this is going to be awkward enough without my extra shit. Her adorably stubborn ass is standing at the opening of my front door, not coming in until I answer her, but if she stands there much longer, she is going to be a snowman.
“Look, I’m sorry. Come inside, let me give you some warm clothes, light the fire, and put some soup on for us. I can show you to your room before we have a deep meaningful conversation. How about that? Will you come in? Please.” I hold my hand out, and when she places hers in mine, I physically have to stop myself from yanking her into my arms. Her skin on mine feels like a warmth of more than just heat. It feels like heart, and I need to get a fucking grip.
“Fine,” she says, finally moving over the threshold. Once the door is closed, I begin walking her up the stairs.
“This is your room for the next day or so. I believe there is a robe and maybe some sweats in a drawer and a shirt. I have socks in the bathroom you can borrow. Once you are ready, please come down. I am going to get warm and start warming up the house for us and some food.” I stand there in the room with her longer than I mean to, and of course, she picks up on it.
“To do any of that, you have to leave the room.” She smirks with a slight giggle.
“Yeah. Right,” I say, running my hands through my hair before walking out and shutting the door. I lean against it for a second, closing my eyes, trying to bring myself back down to the land of the living. This can go nowhere, and I know that. I think I am just reacting to her being out in adverse weather. Yeah, that has to be it.
Not convinced, I walk into my bedroom and change into sweats, a shirt, and my slippers. I walk downstairs, immediately put the pot of soup I made yesterday on the stove, and turn it on before entering the living room and turning on the fireplace.
My cottage has central air and heating, but knowing that heat rises, it usually ends up warming the upstairs, and down here stays an igloo. So, I installed a fireplace with a chimney, so the heat stays on the house's first floor. I pull some blankets from the cupboard in the living room and place them on the couch.
In the kitchen, I pull down some bowls and grab the silverware. I also pull out two wine glasses. “That smells good,” she says, walking into the kitchen. I am momentarily stunned at how good she looks in my clothes, and I forget how to speak for a moment before clearing my throat. Her hair is wet. She was in my shower, which means she probably smells like me, too. Fuck. This is going to be so hard.
“Thanks. Did you find everything alright?” She smiles and looks down.
“Yeah. I am basically drowning in all of this, but it is warm, and I appreciate it.” Fuck she is right. It has not been more evident how much bigger than her I am until right now. She is a tiny thing, covered in my clothes. Damn, I am never going to wash those again.
